My dear Icarus,
Have you brought tales of gold for me?
You-- the master of self,
The one who held his own thread and shears.
Don't share of how hard you beat your wings
But how the air beat against your brow.
Don't echo your father's faded cries
But sing the songs of the Aegean sea--
Sing them only for me!

My sweet Icarus,
Is the world as grand as the travelers say?
Are crumbling maps and hand-spun tales nothing to compare?
I've read of Sicily, where your father rests his mourning head.
I've traced its rivers as they curved against my torn papyrus.
Sicily, the land of Aetna.
Oh, to watch the land shake at the beckoning of her call
(Oh, to fly free of these labyrinth walls)!

My darling Icarus,
Tell me-- is life better above the blanket of Grecian blue?
Is it better than what the Fates designed?
Is it better than what I hold today
(please, let it be more than today)?

My beloved Icarus,
Will you give me your wings--
The mingling of feather, wax, and dreams.
Will you give me your wings and
Your will to yearn higher and higher

So that I too can reach the city of gold.

The Icarus that I was
fell in love with the sun.
I flew high and fast and didn't waver for even a fraction of a second.

I thought that I had to work like that, tire myself like that to prove my love for the sun.
So I came closer to see if the sun really did love me back.


But I got burnt.

I fell.

I broke my wings so I took them off.

I can't say it changed me for the better, but it hadn't left me the same as well.

Now I roam around with my name but not with my self.
I looked up and saw that the sun hasn't changed.

   'Shouldn't you be affected by this?'
I asked
    'Why aren't you affected by this?! BY ME?!'
I yelled.

I was mad.

I was desperate.

I was in love and I was hurt.


But I was also wrong.

I shouldn't have wished for the sun to feel the way that I did. To fall the way that I did.

I lied down and took a minute to feel everything.

Without my wings, lying down felt different.
I could feel the ground with my shoulder blades and my back felt the way the grass shifted away from me.

I looked up and saw the sun going down.

Because the sun isn't always going to be there.

And in its place were the moon and the stars.

And just like that
I saw that I didn't love the sun because of who it is.
I loved the sun because the sun was also a star.

And who would be stupid enough to not love a star?

with the weight of the world on my shoulders,
hands scrabbling at my back,
i wonder when i stopped being icarus
and took on the role of atlas
and if it was foolish of me to wear wings of wax
and expect them not to melt

i miss that flying freedom.
feeling on top of the world, soaring through a blue sky
with you, my apollo, a guiding light;
an enveloping warmth,
it felt like nothing could touch me
even on the coldest nights

i knew enough of science and mythology
to know i'd fall hard,
that candles drip and melt
and when they melt, your skin burns;
i knew that looking into the sun
would surely make me blind

it didn't feel like such a hazard at the time
i've never had 20:20 eyesight.
the blindest man is the one that refuses to see
and why see when i could feel?
throw caution to the wind, take flight...
i flew and i fell and i loved so i drowned

standing by the ashes
of his burnt wings ...
he got his answers,
why icarus was told
never to fly too low
or too high ...
but love never understands ...
or does it ?? .

you are more than the second child
you are more than your mother's eyes
you are more than your self-prophesied
self-inflicted demise
you are more than your downfalls and your doubts
wind in your wings under the sun's collapse
can you feel the scorch on your back?
the burns don't scar but leave phantom marks
from where the wax has melted.
apollo always smiled too bright,
so warm that it burned out your retinas
and washed the color from your irises.
the ocean will sooth the memories,
aloe vera for old haunts and past loves,
broken families and falling, falling,
falling

A roaring city shadowed by moon,
Saltwater laps the shore.
In a million years, a simple sand dune,
And a land that knows not war.
We worship artificial gods, designed to entertain;
Music, movies and TV.
We enjoy away our brains.
We’ve never been able to see beyond sight.
We scoff at our own rebirth.
Our arrogance fuels our final flight,
Our wings char, and we fall to earth.

the hollow between her neck and shoulders,
deep like holy water stoup,
has always been sacred to me.

i was sixteen then, foolish and in love.

i wrote her name on every piece of paper
i could find and kept her in my pocket,
showed her what the world looked like in my eyes.

she had something in her, that girl.
perhaps a cross between a crazed butcher and a catholic school kid.
with her you can never tell.

for a brief moment she let me know what heaven tastes like--
she kissed me by the pool and i lost my head.

        time flew like manic Icarus.
     suddenly, as abrupt as somebody braking hard, it was all over.

four years later and i'm still looking for my sanity.

after her
every mouth i kiss
just tastes like chlorine.

Hey
Ok
I know that you know that I can't say "I'm not good with words" because, let's be honest, that's basically the only thing I'm good at.
But what I'm not good at is you.
Or rather, how to use my words with you.
But I used to.
But now I just... I don't know.
Just like how I don't know what happened. How I don't know what I did wrong. How I don't know if I even did something wrong.
It just felt like... I don't actually have a great analogy to explain this but it felt ******.
Ok let me try this analogy.

It kinda felt like an Icarus moment.

Which is funny, given me name right now.
Let me explain.
You know how he died? How all he was doing was enjoying what he had. His freedom. How he never felt that freedom until then and then when he let himself experience it it ended up being his downfall. Literally.
That's what falling for you feels like. How it felt like.
I'm not gonna lie and say I wouldn't have fallen for you, but if things didn't turn out the way they did I'm pretty sure I could say I love you and not feel like I'm lying to myself about it.
I've never met anyone who fit so perfectly with me that it scared me at first.

It's always scary when you fly for the first time, right?

But when I did start falling for you it didn't feel like falling at all it feels like flying. It feels exhilarating and somehow taboo at first. How it feels like something so good should be something I shouldn't do.
But the more I knew you the more I flew. The more I soared high.
What I didn't know back then was that the more I flew, the more it'll hurt when I started falling.

Which I did.

When I needed you the most- no,
When I needed someone the most, you vanished.
Actually you didn't vanish. Which was worst.
It felt like you were there, constantly there, and yet you couldn't be to give me a single glance.

It physically felt like a punch in the heart.

But I guess that's my fault. Yeah. I know it's my fault. It's my fault for thinking you'll be there for me. It's my fault for expecting you'll do to me what I'll do for you.
I keep forgetting that when I confessed my feelings for you to you, you confessed your lack if feelings for me to me.

But this isn't what this whole thing was about.

This isn't a message for my past crush, nor is it for the one I'm pining on. It's a message for my best friend.
This message is for the one who I talked about living together with in London.
This message is for the one who showed me so much music that they knew I'll love
This message is for the one who told me that I loved rain just as much as they did.

This message is for you and this message is a hello or a goodbye, depending on you.

I miss you, unknown.
I miss you fiercely and wholeheartedly.

I miss the idea of you,
the concept of your soft curls against my cheek,
my face tucked into your neck.

I am the longing bull,
huffing and grunting impatiently
with ardent eyes, mouth full of fervor
for your crimson presence.

I am the sailing boat, the fisherman,
humming with quiet and unmoving anticipation
for the melody of your song to ring through space.

I miss you.
I miss you in my fingertips and in my brain.
I miss you in my knees and in the depth of my ***** and
in my ritual I roam through sunny days looking for your cool hands
and on the cold days I freeze on the inside and I do not speak.

I miss everything I don't know about you.
I miss everything I thought I knew about you and
I miss not knowing
and wanting to know.

at times the guilt of it all churns my stomach,
to know that letting go of you may burn me on my soft edges
but might keep whole.
the sting of the brutal realisation that your light is not mine to melt my wings for.

still
time after time
I simply miss you.
I miss the idea of you.
I miss you, unknown.